


To Love What Is Mortal

by November_Ashes



Series: To Love What Is Mortal [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/November_Ashes/pseuds/November_Ashes
Summary: My take on what might have happened if Leliana were romanceable by Female Lavellan. Mostly vignettes, possibly a more coherent narrative later.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Leliana (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Leliana (Dragon Age)
Series: To Love What Is Mortal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935925
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

_To live in this world you must be able to do three things:  
to love what is mortal;  
to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it;  
and, when the time comes to let it go,  
to let it go. _

\--Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods”

**

She first noticed it one night after a particularly late meeting. 

The hours had dragged on, arguments were had and bit by bit, formalities had worn away. The final straw had been about which approach to take during a mission in the Emerald Graves to route a camp of red templars that had been mining red lyrium in the region. 

Leliana herself had wanted to send in her scouts to eliminate the camp, as per her usual modus operandi. Josephine had suggested working with the local nobility to arrange a dry-up of their supply line. Cullen, of course, wanted to send in troops to scour every settlement. All normal. But the long night, lack of rest and general weariness had caused a gridlock.

Finally, it had been Cullen's stubbornness that made the normally very aloof and formal Dalish elf snap, “Well, why don't we just set the whole fucking woods on fire, Cullen? That way we will be sure to get the red templars.”

They had all looked at Lavellan in shock. Leliana hadn't known she even had it in her. She had never seen the elf act anything other than polite and patient, and had almost a Josephine level of serenity about her in the face of conflict. It caused a smile to break over her face before anyone else reacted. 

“I second the 'set shit on fire' motion,” Leliana said into the tense quiet.

Lavellan, for her part, looked aghast. “My apologies, Commander; I'm not sure what came over me,” she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“It might have been the fact we've been in here for hours without taking a break and with nothing to eat,” Cullen said wryly.

“I will have something brought in. I'm surprised you allowed us to go for so long, Leliana; It's not like you to do without refreshment.”

“I'm not out of wine yet, and I enjoy arguing almost as much as food, if you'll remember,” Leliana smirked, settling into a semi-comfortable high backed chair.

“As if I could forget.” Josephine shook her head and patted Lavellan on the shoulder as she went past to summon a guard.

“I think I'll take some of that, if you'll allow me without trying to bite my hands off, Sister Nightingale,” Lavellan said drolly as she made her way to the drink service.

“Just this once, Inquisitor.”

After pouring herself a glass of wine, Lavellan sat heavily in the chair next to Leliana, rolling her head to the side to give the former bard a weary look. 

Leliana propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her chin in her palm, returning the look. Even tired as she was, Leliana felt a stir of arousal when Lavellan looked at her. Who wouldn't, she reasoned. She was tall for an elf, but still a few inches under Leliana's height, with lovely features and golden skin and thick, wavy silver-blonde locks that just now looked a bit mussed from having fingers raked through it in frustration. The sharp lines of her vallaslin formed a boldly intricate pattern across her forehead and framing the sides of her face, which continued on her chin and down her throat. Her most striking feature was her eyes, though. Leliana had never seen a shade quite like it, a pale grey color that might have almost been hazel. 

Anyone would find her attractive, and Leliana certainly wasn't immune. Quite the opposite, in fact. That was fine, it could be ignored. She had done it before without issue. The problem was that it seemed the attraction might be mutual. 

It wasn't anything obvious, but Lavellan wasn't used to hiding her tells. A friendly glance that lingered too long, eye contact broken self-consciously. 

Sitting right next to her when there were other perfectly acceptable chairs in the room. 

Leliana decided to take it as a compliment and ignore it, hoping it went no further.

“Don't you get tired of all this?” Lavellan finally asked, a plaintive note in her voice. 

Leliana tilted her head a little to the side. “Not really. It is what I do. It's been this way for years, so long now that I'm not sure what I might do otherwise. Raise nugs, maybe,” Leliana smirked.

“This isn't what _I_ do,” Lavellan sighed. “I scout the woods for new campsites, translate ancient runes, teach children which herbs are poisonous and which cure fevers. I don't lead armies...make decisions like this.”

“That's why we're here, Inquisitor... To help you make those decisions.” Cullen said, looking at the elf sympathetically. Leliana subtly glared at him.

_Helpfully oblivious as always,_ she thought darkly.

“We have asked much of you, and you haven't let anyone down. I think this is what you were meant to do.”

Lavellan peered at the Spymaster from between her fingers, having rubbed a hand over her face in a tired gesture. She let her hand drop to the armrest with another sigh. “I hope you're right.”

“I usually am.” Leliana said helpfully. Lavellan rolled her eyes and smiled at her, the gesture making her lovely face even brighter.

Leliana looked away in what she hoped was a casual motion, wondering with a frown where the servants were with the food.

This might be harder than she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

It went further.

_Sister Leliana (the note said)--_

_I was going over some of my old notes and was reminded there is supposed to be a star shower occurring for the rest of this month. I wondered if you might want to try your luck seeing it tonight on the battlements with me. Failing that, I'll bring wine._

_Wyl Lavellan ___

__It was getting late, most everyone in the castle having gone to bed or otherwise retired for the evening though there were still one or two of her agents lingering about in the rookery. Leliana had discovered the note when she returned from debriefing Harding in the courtyard and taking care of a few other small matters._ _

__On the surface, the note seemed casual and friendly. Perhaps that was all the Inquisitor had meant by it. Leliana tried to entertain that thought, tried to breathe on it until it caught. It didn't work. Lavellan wasn't inviting Dorian or Cassandra or Sera to go star watching with her after all, nor was it an activity to which you generally invited casual acquaintances._ _

__There was also the matter that even if it was all only meant in friendship and Lavellan wasn't attracted to her, the same wasn't true for Leliana. It would be best for both of them, then, not to encourage a less formal association._ _

__Right?_ _

__As she did sometimes when she was alone, when she needed some type of communion or reassurance or just to think for a while, she felt for the key she wore around her neck beneath her armor._ _

__Under the desk was a small box that had followed Leliana from the aftermath of Denerim to Val Royeaux, to Haven and now to a castle in the Frostback Mountains. Cassandra would no doubt drive her into the ground like a post if she knew Leliana had gone back to her office for it while an ancient Tevinter magister and his pet Archdemon ripped the town down around them. The key fit the lock easily, as it had so many times before._ _

__Within the box was everything that was left of Solana Amell, Grey Warden and Hero of Ferelden. An empty phylactery. A small, beaten leather bound notebook that Leliana had only recently become able to open and read. A piece of blue ribbon. A silver Sword of Mercy amulet._ _

__Alistair had given all of Amell's things to Leliana after the celebration in Denerim following the end of the fifth Blight. She didn't speak to him for years afterward. She somewhat regretted it now, though their friendship was back on good terms. It might have helped to talk to him about her._ _

__Leliana wondered if Solana still heard her, knew she still prayed for her, or if her spirit had moved on from wherever it had lingered between this world and the next long ago._ _

__For a while there, she had almost forgotten. Almost let herself forget._ _

_Forget what? That you're still holding on to a woman long dead?_

Leliana didn't think she was still in love with Solana. She would always love her, but she didn't think it was the same thing. It was the shape of love that had been left behind, emptied by the years Leliana had spent without her. But she was afraid. Didn't want to change that shape after having lived with it for so long. 

__Ten years. The Sword of Mercy sat heavily in her palm. A cold weight. The hollow in her chest grew, and tears stung behind her eyes but didn't fall. After all this time, what was the point? She had been alone so long. It was comfortable, this solitude. This grief. It felt familiar, felt like her. It had grown up around her like vines in a trellis while she had thrown herself into other things. If she let go of it, and reached for this new thing..._ _

__Coming to a decision, Leliana pressed her lips together firmly and put the amulet back in its box. Standing, she walked deliberately out of the rookery and headed across the hall._ _

__The Inquisitor wasn't in her room, but rather than wait inside for her Leliana returned to her desk, knowing Lavellan would come looking for her when she sent no reply to her message. She tried very hard to keep her mind on her work, but she kept reading the same report over and over again without its message registering. Finally, she tossed it down in irritation and poured a cup of wine._ _

__She had just taken a sip when she heard the Inquisitor's particular cadence coming up the stairs. She rose from her seat and set her cup down, eyeing the maps on the table until she realized she was trying to make herself look busy and rolled her eyes mentally._ _

__“Leliana?” Lavellan sounded hesitant as she approached._ _

__“Yes. I was expecting you,” Leliana said, looking up. Before Lavellan could say anything else, Leliana gestured to the door that led outside onto the battlements. With a nod, the elf headed out the door with Leliana close behind her._ _

__Leliana took a deep breath and let it out in hope of calming herself before Lavellan stopped and turned around to face her._ _

__“I take it you got my note?” Lavellan said, the expression on her face already relaying that she knew what Leliana's likely reaction was going to be._ _

__“I did. Inquisitor, I'm afraid spending any more time together outside of pure business matters may be approaching a line of...impropriety. There are certain appearances that need to be maintained.”_ _

__Lavellan managed to appear crestfallen without so much as twitching a muscle. “I understand. I apologize that I made you uncomfortable.”_ _

__So perhaps it hadn't just been an entirely platonic invitation. Leliana felt a brief, inappropriate flash of vindication. “It's not that. I enjoy working with you, please believe that. I just don't think it's appropriate for us to engage in matters outside of Inquisition business.”_ _

__“Of course. It won't happen again. I'll...leave you to your evening.”_ _

__Lavellan ducked her head a little as she stepped past Leliana and went back inside. Leliana let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, watching the closed door the elf had just passed through for several seconds. She felt even worse now than she had before. It had to be done, but it was supposed to make her feel better._ _

__Frustrated with herself again Leliana turned and rested her palms against the parapet, staring down into the darkened courtyard without really seeing it. Things weren't making sense any more. She had been so certain earlier that putting distance between herself and the Inquisitor was the right thing to do. Now it felt like a mistake. What was going on?_ _

__It had to be done._ _

__Hadn't it?_ _

__Above her, high in the heavens, a single star streaked across the night sky unnoticed and then vanished into the black without a trace._ _


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian let out a small sound of annoyance at the sight of yet another flight of stairs. Why had they put the Inquisitor's room at the top of the bloody tower? So she would be closest if a dragon decided to swoop by?

He made his way wearily—he would not do anything so undignified as to 'trudge'—up the stairs to Lavellan's suite, a bottle of Sun Blonde Vint in one hand and two glasses grasped between his first and second fingers in the other. He did not wish to insult his new friend, but he wasn't certain Dalish elves knew about proper wine glasses and her note hadn't mentioned whether she had thought to include a service for two. Not after the 'incident', at least.

_Dorian (it said)--_

_I think I fuc (the word had been scratched out) made a mistake regarding what we discussed in Crestwood. Come help me finish this bottle so I don't have two regrets tomorrow._

That meant she had tried to storm the fortress that was Sister Nightingale. A course he had tried to sway her from out of a sense of compassion, but at the same time respected her all the more for having the nerve to conceive of it.

Being the kind of friend he knew himself to be, his first stop had been the wine cellar. What she needed was not to be patted on the head but rather inundated with even more alcohol so that she could forget for a moment that this was one battle she had most spectacularly lost. And then kicked in the pants swiftly and decisively. 

Leaving behind the last flight of stairs gladly, he stopped at the landing and looked around the room. His eyebrows rose appreciatively. He had never ventured into the upper suites before, not even before they had been furnished. He even approved of the somewhat hasty and not entirely tacky décor. There was time to acquire proper furnishings for their esteemed leader once they had gained reputable contacts. 

One thing he didn't see was the room's owner.

“Oh, La-vell-an?” Dorian sing-songed, tapping one of the glasses lightly against the wine bottle. “I brought you some proper drink. I doubt it's enough to get truly sotted but it's bound to be an improvement over whatever you found in the main hall.”

Finally, he saw a hand wave from near the floor of the balcony. 

“Thanks,” Lavellan said, her voice far more subdued than he had ever heard it.

“Oh no. This, Inquisitor-- this will not do.” 

Striding toward the neatly kept desk near the bookshelf, he set down the bottle and glasses and stalked out onto the balcony, staring down at the elf with his arms crossed and a firm expression on his face.

“Lavellan, you tried. Not many can say that and in fact, I would stake quite a large sum of coin that no one in this entire organization has the balls to even attempt what you did. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.”

Lavellan was sitting with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms draped over them. Her whole demeanor spoke of dejection and Dorian couldn't stand it.

“Come now. This is not how we comport ourselves.” He reached down his hand, and after a few moments and a dark scowl the elf took it and let herself be hauled to her feet.

“That's the spirit.”

“I don't believe I have ever been turned down that hard before,” Lavellan said with forced casualness, dropping lightly into the chair at her desk. Dorian pulled the visitor's chair closer to be better able to open the bottle and pour.

“What did she say, exactly? I find it hard to believe she cut you down so viciously. You are both beautiful women; surely your approaching her wasn't that unbelievable.”

“She wasn't cruel about it, of course. That's not what I meant. She said...we were approaching a line of impropriety and we shouldn't meet outside of business.”

Dorian stopped what he was doing and just stared at the elf. “You are joking. Inquisitor, I was once told by a second-born son that the seas would boil before I had grown anything approaching the degree of class it would require for me to proposition him. That is getting turned down hard. You were given apologies and told 'but you're my boss'.”

Lavellan thought about that for a moment and frowned. “I suppose I didn't consider that. We don't have 'bosses' in Dalish clans. Unless you count the Keeper. These human hierarchies confuse me.”

“I ought not waste so fine a drink as this on you now, really. But I climbed all those stairs,” Dorian sighed. “I'm getting something out of it.”

Lavellan leaned over her desk on her elbows, giving the mage a faint smile as he poured them both a glass. “Thanks. It is actually kind of helping to be told how ridiculous I am.”

“I should think you would be used to such a thing by now,” Dorian sniffed. He pushed one of the glasses toward her. “Drink. And let me not hear another word about your rejection. People of our station are above such base concepts. You are one of a kind, and only someone truly exceptional will be able to recognize that.”

Lavellan chuckled at Dorian's over-the-top behavior and raised her glass. “To overcoming base concepts,” She offered.

“Cheers to that.” Dorian grinned and tapped the rim of his glass against hers.


	4. Chapter 4

Leliana had been waiting as casually as possible in the courtyard, speaking to some of the archers about the upcoming contest the Inquisition would be hosting. Small, local. For morale, the others had said. A waste of time in Leliana's opinion, but she had been outvoted. 

Sera had even talked her into judging.

It was about the time the Inquisitor usually came through to meet up with some of her trainers to study. Finally, Leliana caught sight of her crossing the yard. Excusing herself, Leliana went to meet her.

“Lavellan. A word?”

Lavellan tilted her head gently, a look of concern crossing her features. “Of course.”

Leliana felt the muscles in her jaw bunch as she unconsciously clenched her teeth. Her heart was doing that thing again where it fluttered in her chest when Lavellan looked at her, nerves making her hands tremble. She clasped them more tightly together behind her back. This was why she had been so studious to avoid the elf for the past few weeks, though it had hardly been practical. 

Lavellan, of course, was putting her to shame. Oh, she had been more careful to ensure she stayed out of Leliana's personal space and her messages had gotten a bit more formal, but she had remained open and friendly toward her. She hadn't gone out of her way to avoid being in the same room.

Leliana was confident that she gave nothing away as far as her facial expressions went, but inside she felt like a mess and worried that she came off as cold, which wasn't her intent. For all she had told herself she would get over it, it seemed that wasn't to be the case.

_Damn it._

“Walk with me for a moment.”

Lavellan fell into step beside her as they walked at an easy pace across the courtyard, Leliana waiting until they had cleared most of the people milling about for some modicum of privacy before she spoke. 

Lavellan was wearing her long fur-trimmed coat as she so often did, the one that reminded Leliana of Cullen's a little, though it had the tapering slim cut of Dalish design rather than the boxy profile Ferelden tailors tended toward. Batting away with a scowl the completely inappropriate thought that it looked better on her than it ever could on Cullen, given what Leliana wished to speak of, she finally noticed that underneath it the Inquisitor had on armor.

“Have I interrupted you? Are you leaving soon?”

“Soon, but I have some time. I sent one of your people to track down Sera and there's no telling what state she will be in once they find her. I imagine it will be a while yet.” Lavellan smirked a little and Leliana managed a small smile in return, but it fell quickly.

“I wanted to apologize to you. I think... No, I know I have hurt your feelings. I'm sorry.”

To her mild surprise, Lavellan considered her words for a moment and didn't rush to reassure her that no harm had been done. It was both refreshing and disappointing. It meant there were still feelings to be examined. And of course there were, but she didn't think they would actually be examining them.

_Damn it._

“My feelings smarted a bit, but it couldn't be helped. My advances were unwelcome; you had to let me know so that I would stop. I don't think you were in any way out of line. I know I was, and again I am sorry.”

Leliana gave her a wry look, which the elf missed as she was watching the ground as they walked. “I am the one apologizing here, Inquisitor. They weren't...unwelcome exactly, which is the problem. And it's why I need to...”

Lavellan was giving Leliana her full attention now, but she still looked a little uncertain. And why wouldn't she? Leliana was quickly letting the situation slide into very awkward territory. They had walked onto the battlements, which were blessedly free of soldiers for the moment. Leliana leaned against the parapet, gazing out over the mountains and giving her thoughts a moment to settle. 

“I told you a little about the Hero of Ferelden.” 

“Yes. You said you were friends.”

“We were lovers. I was with her when she fought the Archdemon. I watched her die.” Leliana relayed in almost a monotone, still looking out over the mountains. In her mind, she watched the young mage stand before the monster again, so afraid. So angry. So brave.

“I didn't know anything could hurt so much. I was so angry with her for such a long time.”

“Why?” Lavellan asked quietly.

“For leaving me. For dying. For making me fall in love with her. It was like a poison. I almost let it destroy me.”

“Why didn't you?” 

Leliana was a little surprised at the question, but it was a good one. One she had asked herself many times. She shrugged a little. “Maybe I did.” 

Lavellan leaned against the stone beside Leliana, staring off thoughtfully for a while. “I think if you had, we wouldn't be having this conversation, Lady Nightingale.”

“I am not trying to play games with you, Inquisitor. I know it seems that way. I just...” Leliana's lips pressed together tightly, frustrated at what she had to say. She let a small, humorless chuckle emerge and shook her head. “I was a bard of Orlais. I am supposed to be better than this at managing my feelings. I just can't quite get you under control.”

Lavellan smiled a little at that, but sobered quickly. “Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?” 

“I know you are going to hurt me,” Leliana said quietly. “But it's alright. That's just...part of it. I can handle it. If you can.”

“I think you are worth the risk, Leliana. Thank you.”

Leliana smiled faintly at the elf. Her nerves were so bad now, even though she had gotten past the hardest part of the conversation that she actually felt a little sick to her stomach. She hadn't been sure how much she was going to tell Lavellan until she had started talking. In spite of the shakiness, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. She was dizzy in the wake of it. And in no small part, terrified.

“We shall see if you thank me once you really get to know me,” Leliana smirked in self-deprecation. 

“I look forward to it,” Lavellan replied, completely sincere.

Leliana ducked her head a little and cleared her throat. “I think my spies have found your wayward archer,” she said, gesturing vaguely behind Lavellan.

Lavellan turned to see Sera stalking across the courtyard towards the gate looking very pissed off. Leliana's agent strode behind her much more slowly and when she saw Leliana and the Inquisitor looking her way, she made a no-go gesture at her neck, frowning at the elf's back.

“Well. This should be fun.” Lavellan sighed. “I'll be back soon...maybe we can talk more?”

“Of course.”

Lavellan nodded a little and quirked a half grin at her. “Wish me luck.”

Leliana watched her go. She let the gravity that her life had just gotten a bit more complicated sink in. It felt surprisingly good.


End file.
